


Skin And Bones // Just Let Me Go

by NicoAndTheNineGalaxies



Series: Skin And Bones [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Eating Disorders, Established Relationship, M/M, Self-Destructive Tendencies, Self-Harm, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 09:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18134003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoAndTheNineGalaxies/pseuds/NicoAndTheNineGalaxies
Summary: “Why don’t you just let me go?” Virgil whispered.  “Why are you trying so hard to keep me here? I don’t have enough energy to even love you most of the time.  I’m an anxious, depressed, disordered mess of a person, and I don’t understand…” He trailed off.  “I just...I just don’t understand why you care so much. I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel.”





	Skin And Bones // Just Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> TW for self-harm and eating disorders.  
> Galaxy ||-//

Virgil liked feeling things.

He liked running his fingers over his wrist and feeling cuts, scars, burns.  He liked scratching at the half-healed ones, re-opening them, feeling the pain shoot up his arm and digging just a little deeper, making the sting just a little worse, until he couldn’t handle it anymore.  And then he liked the feeling of the blood dripping from the fresh wounds.

He liked feeling his bones, the dips between them, pulling at the skin and the fat around them, pinching it.  He liked feeling like he’d made progress, though he knew there was still more progress to make.

But unless he was feeling pain, hunger, or the sick pride that came from inflicting that pain and hunger, he didn’t want to feel a thing.

He didn’t want to feel happiness.

He didn’t want to feel comfort.

On the  _ really _ bad days, he didn’t even want to feel love.

Those were the worst days, when he would ignore Roman or snap at Patton or push Logan away.  

But he assured himself time and time again that this was what he wanted.

Virgil loved them all so much, albeit in slightly different ways, but he loved them just the same.  But sometimes, he wished he didn’t.

Because if he didn’t love them, he wouldn’t feel obligated to stop harming himself.  He wouldn’t feel obligated to eat. He wouldn’t feel obligated to get out of bed in the morning.

He could just cut himself into pieces, burn himself to ashes, and let those ashes waste away.

But no.  He loved them, and he never wanted to hurt anyone except for himself.

So, that Sunday morning, when it was Roman’s turn to take him out for breakfast to make sure he was eating properly, he reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, wrangled his hair into something relatively presentable, and pulled on a hoodie to cover up his scars - not cuts, not burns, but scars.  He hadn’t hurt himself in weeks, and while he was practically itching to grab a blade or a lighter, he’d made promises that he wouldn’t.

Virgil could break himself as many times as he wanted, but one thing he refused to break was a promise.

Roman was waiting outside with an extra jacket that he wordlessly wrapped around Virgil as soon as he stepped outside.

Virgil didn’t mind.  It smelled like Roman.

“You really should remember a jacket next time,” Roman said, offering Virgil a small, fond smile.

“I will,” Virgil promised.

Promises upon promises.

They got into Roman’s car and he started driving.

Virgil’s hands were shaking.

“...Virge?”

Virgil glanced up at Roman, who kept looking over at him, concerned.

“I’m fine, Roman.  Just drive.”

“You don’t have to eat anything big, remember?  You can order the lowest calorie item on the menu.  I don’t care what it is as long as it’s a full meal and you eat at least half of it.  Please.”

“I-I’ll try,” Virgil said hesitantly.

It was all in the wording.  He only promised that he’d try, and that meant he could stop whenever he wanted as long as he made an effort.

“Thank you,” Roman said softly, reaching over and grasping Virgil’s hand with one of his own, turning his gaze back to the road.  “I love you, Virgil.”

Virgil just forced a smile.

He held onto that smile as he forced down half of the pancakes he ordered.

He hated himself with every single bite, but he did it.

For Roman.

For Patton.

For Logan.

 

“You’re doing really well, Virgil,” Roman commented as they drove back to Virgil’s house.

Virgil shrugged.  “I guess.”

Roman frowned.  “Hey, what’s...what’s wrong?”

“Why don’t you just let me go?” Virgil whispered.  “Why are you trying so hard to keep me here? I don’t have enough energy to even love you most of the time.  I’m an anxious, depressed, disordered  _ mess _ of a person, and I don’t understand…” He trailed off.  “I just...I just don’t understand why you care so much. I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel.”

Roman pulled over to the side of the road and parked the car, turning toward Virgil and grabbing his hands in both of his.  “Virgil, listen to me. I care because I know that your anxiety, your depression, your anorexia...those don’t define you. You define yourself.  The fact that you’re willing to try to get better even though it scares you, the fact that you’re so strong, the fact that you’re communicating better and telling us how you feel...your struggles don’t define you, okay?  What defines you is how you react to them, and I see who you really are in all of this.  _ That’s _ why I care, Virgil.  I care because I know you.”

Virgil bit his lip, staring down at his hands in Roman’s.  “O-oh. I...I think I get it now. Thank you.”

Roman smiled.  “I love you, Virge.”

“...I love you, too.”


End file.
